


Dear Phil

by smokyphan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:24:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2836247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokyphan/pseuds/smokyphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan writes a letter</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Phil

Dear Phil, 

It was snowing today, and it reminded me of you. I got on a train and took a walk through a forest, and lay there and watched the crystals fall around me. The snow was beautiful- pale, icy, just like you. I wore my horn hoodie, and remembered how you used to laugh at it and tug at the horns. I thought of everything; remember back in Manchester, when we walked through the abandoned hospital and made snow angels? That’s the main reason the snow reminds me of you.

There was a girl, on the train, and I think she recognised me, from youtube. She looked, stared a little, considered. Whispered to her friend, scraped her hair into a ponytail. Whispered, stared a little more. Her eyes were sad when they looked at me, and full of sorry. She got off at Richmond, ran off into the snow with her friend, forgetting about the sad man she probably recognised from a few years back.

I haven’t made a video in over 3 years, but there is still the occasional person who will recognise me. Usually female, with a professional haircut and high heels, rushing to uni or work; a far cry from the teenager who likely once used to laugh and you, at me, at us, on the internet. She’ll have moved on now, all but forgotten about the two dorks she used to dedicate her life to. She’s the opposite of me; I still think about us, about you, every day.

I haven’t been back to the flat, our flat, since it happened. I lived with my mum for a bit, then with PJ, then with Louise. My parents dealt with all the paperwork and found me another flat, south London this time, where I could sit and be and cry and think of you. They come and visit sometimes, sit on the sofa and tap their expensive boots on the varnished floorboards and despair. Despair at what I’ve lost; what I’ve become; what I will never be. Despair at how their son, who once seemed like such a superstar, could have had his lost all his metaphorical, soon to be literal life.

I still miss you, Phil. I miss your voice and your smile and the way your laugh was like warm caramel. I miss the way you’d lend me your clothes and ruffle my hair and hold my hand. I miss the kisses, I miss the cold days spent in a warm bed, I miss the pure life that was contained within us. I loved you Phil, I still love you and I think of you every day. And even though you’re gone, you’ve been gone for over three years; I will never stop loving you. I believe that there are events that define your life: I believe that you, Phil, were my once in a life time event. And now you’re over, so I am over too. Somebody will probably find this letter in a few days, weeks, months and be sad that I’m gone, but also happy, happy that I have joined the person who was my once in a lifetime.

I love you, Phil, and I hope to be seeing you again soon.

Yours, Dan x


End file.
